Alight
by lostinthefoliage
Summary: When Derek gatecrashes Lydia's party in search of Scott, he gets more than he bargained for as old wounds resurface. - What would Derek have seen if he'd sampled the punch in 2.09 "Party Guessed"?


Derek cautiously entered, trying to look casual and mix with the crowd… or at least he WAS trying until a colourful array of drag queens danced past him in a conga line. One detached from the crowd and sashayed up to him "Well now, the brooding type, my favourite – how ever did you know?" Was he… was he flirting? Uncharacteristically startled, Derek flushed red, and his eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for an out. With relief, he spotted Scott's friend – what was her name? Lydia? - across the room filling glasses from a large punch bowl, and he quickly brushed past the attempted seduction and stalked across to her. Lydia glanced up at him, and smiled, handing him a glass of punch. Derek frowned – there was something about that smile that sent a shiver down his spine and had his senses tingling – but he didn't have time for this, he had to find Scott and get back to the pups. "I'm looking for Scott!" Derek had to yell to be heard over the music. Lydia tilted her head and stared at him quizzically "You don't like my punch?" Derek rolled his eyes – teenage girls! – and skulled it back. "There! Scott! Where is he?" Lydia smiled again, but Derek noted that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I think I saw him out by the pool". Tipping his head in thanks, Derek hurried outside and scanned his surroundings – Scott was nowhere to be seen, but he noted Stiles frozen across the courtyard, and could hear his heart pounding wildly. He seemed to be staring at nothing, but his expression was anguished, and when Derek breathed in he could smell and feel the waves of panic and grief emanating. Momentarily conflicted, he turned to resume his search for Scott, but caught himself. He didn't know why, but Stiles needed help, and for some reason Derek couldn't bring himself to turn his back on that. With an aggravated sigh, he twisted around once more… and froze.

Four figures stood before him, and his heart-rate spiked as his gaze shifted from one to the other, their unblinking eyes trained on him, smiles wide. His mum was as he'd always remembered her, slightly plump in the way that mums were, fierce red hair swept up in a tangled bun. He remembered that she'd always complained that Dad's genes were too strong, and sighed that maybe soon she'd get the little ginger wolf she'd always wanted as she patted her growing stomach. His dad always shook his head sternly at such nonsense, but as Derek stared at him now he knew that he would've loved a daughter that looked just like her. Derek had always taken after his father, whose sharp eyes appraised him now. He looked tired, but proud; lean, but muscular; with short dark hair and a beard that accentuated his strong jaw line. He knew that it wasn't possible for them to be here, and he reasoned with himself to turn and run because something was clearly horribly wrong. Yet, he couldn't avert his gaze – truthfully, he didn't want to – and standing before his parents calm settled over him… it was as if the burdens and responsibilities that he bore had been lifted at last, and he could once again be safe, and whole.

He was smiling now, his vision clouded by tears as his gaze shifted to Alice, his eldest sister. She was tall and thin, but gracefully so, only just moving beyond the years of gangly awkwardness. Her gaze was stern like their father's, and she'd had a temper to match; Alice and their dad had constantly warred, with many a dinner culminating in snarling across the table. For all that, she had always doted on Derek, training him to run and hunt, and later sneaking him the occasional drink and coaching him in the art of attraction. Derek laughed a little, remembering the time that they'd got into Dad's whiskey… he'd been so mad, but it'd been worth it. It felt good to genuinely laugh again. Little Conrad was last, and Derek stifled a sob, tears running down his cheeks as he stared into those innocent eyes, unruly jet black hair swept back from his face – he'd hardly ever let mum cut it. He knew that mischievous grin well; he knew that Conrad had always admired him and he'd done his best to fill the big brother shoes, letting him in on jokes and pranks, and always siding with him against Laura and Alice. He'd hated not being a wolf himself, and constantly imitated the others, growling and clawing when they tussled, and howling out of his bedroom window at the moon when they'd gone to run. Derek was so overwhelmed with emotion that at first he didn't notice the small plumes of smoke that began to rise around them. It was Conrad beginning to cough that first alerted him; like snakes the threads of smoke were encircling them, coyly grasping at their clothes and brushing against their faces. Derek tried to call out and warn them, to point and shout – ANYTHING – but he was paralysed, and could only stare in horror as all four of them began to cough in earnest, inhaling the dense smoke and choking, gasping for breath, and still they stared at him, unblinking. Flames roared to life around the courtyard, and with unnatural glee began to slowly advance on his family. Derek fought whatever bound him with every fibre of his being, panic overwhelming him as he silently begged them to run, to escape, to survive. Conrad was crying now, tears of terror stark against his blackened face, and Derek's heart was thudding, aching, breaking. "Oh Derek. Why? Why did you do this?" His mum's voice was low, and cracking with grief as the flames danced around her, her hair now dulled by smoke and ash. What? What did she mean? "Was it worth it? Was she everything you ever wanted, _Derek_?" Alice's face was contorted with anger, and she spat into the flames. Shame erupted within him, she was right of course, it was his fault – all of it, he should have known… He ached to scream, to tell them he was sorry, to save them, and still he couldn't move a muscle. The smog and flames had all but obscured them now, and he searched desperately for his dad, to see his face one last time. His eyes, when he found them, were hard and unforgiving, and his father – his idol – shook his head in grave disappointment before the smoke concealed him completely. Derek howled silently, anguish overcoming him. "Derek". His eyes smarted as the smoke hurtled towards him, and he pleaded with the flames to take him, to reunite him with his family once more. "DEREK!"

He blinked, and was startled to find the flames gone, the deafening crackling replaced by upbeat music, and Stiles grasping his arms and staring at him. Derek gasped for air and clutched at Stiles' shirt, eyes darting around the courtyard as he searched for his family. "Derek, Derek, it's ok, it wasn't real – none of it!" Derek closed his eyes and steadied himself, slowing his breathing and calming his mind, still firmly gripping Stiles. "Derek?" He pulled away from Stiles, shook himself, and turned towards the house, eyes glistening. "We have to find Scott".


End file.
